


For FOOD!

by Hawkbringer



Series: Stampede of Millions Orphanage AU [2]
Category: Trigun
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Knives and Vash talk philosophy so of course they argue, Philosophy, Sibling Rivalry, cannibalism vs veganism, climate-inappropriate clothing, farming chores, forced domestic fluff, pygmy thomases lay eggs in this AU ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 16:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19995163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: One of the many slice-of-life moments that contribute to the breaking down of Knives' barriers during the time he lives with Vash at the Stampede of Millions Orphanage/Ranch/Farm. Vash is out collecting eggs. Knives wonders how this is compatible with his theoretical veganism. Vash convinces Knives to ditch the ridiculously-impractical space-suit get-up.





	For FOOD!

**Author's Note:**

> As I have it in my notes, Wolfwood has returned to the family at this point. I don't have a tidbit written for that - I suppose one must just imagine that it happens much the same as it does in Sand and Light by Sholio, a fic here on AO3 from which I absorbed many head-canons.

As he collected eggs from the pygmy-thomases, Knives had walked up and remarked about fetuses and zygotes and it had escalated to salmon sandwiches which they bought from the nearest town's grocer on Meryl's birthday because they were a city delicacy and also her favorite. That had gotten Vash's goat pretty good, as Knives had listed all the Earth animals he even vaugely remembered Rem talking about that ate flesh to live. It was a natural part of the food chain that existed even on this planet, between the tiny gnats and the lizards, the sandworms and the thomases. Vash's beloved 'nature' fell apart when things weren't allowed to eat. Everything would die. To stay alive, one must kill lesser beings. 

"For food!" Vash had retaliated heatedly, snatching the basket of eggs up as though Knives was about to smash them to make some kind of metaphoric point. "Were you going to _eat_ that spider you killed that day? All the humans that you wanted to burn up in the atmosphere?" 

His face twisted instinctively at the thought of consuming the sharp-edged spider. 

"I really would think you were a monster if you survived only by eating the flesh off of humans that you'd murdered," Vash confessed with his eyes on the muddy ground, a sight on this planet not nearly as dull as Earthlings would have found it. "I know you're at least a little more refined than that. Even if you don't like the donuts yet. You do like Meryl's martinis!" 

It sure seemed like grasping at straws to Knives, but the genocidal maniac nodded, for it was true. 

Vash smiled at his nod, a true smile, quiet and content and it caught Knives off guard for he had nothing in his background that would let him smile like that. Contentment. How impossible for a driven being such as himself. But Vash was just as driven to save his little humans as Knives was to see them die. 

He thought very fleetingly of asking Vash what contentment felt like, but dismissed it out of hand as they were no longer infants. They were old now. So, so, old, and knew so little of what life consisted of, aside from fear and murder and fleeing. 

Vash declared then that Knives should help him cook the eggs, which was an unmitigated disaster, largely because Milly had forgotten to tell them how to crack the eggs correctly. 

Knives attempted to wash the gloves of his space-ready suit with a very strong soap, but did not succeed in getting the yolk-stain out. 

Vash found him, going to wash his own hands before eating, a practice Knives found utterly superfluous as neither of them had ever suffered any human disease. (see note 1)

Vash paused at the open door and stared for a moment before asking what he was doing. Knives showed him the stain. 

"It won't come out," he muttered sullenly. "On the Ship, we would have had the technology to..." Vash cut in, certain Knives was utterly full of shit about the stain-cleaning capabilities of the ships' lost technology. 

"On the ship, we would have had the technology to just make another one in a split-second. Here, it takes a little longer." He thought for a moment, staring at Knives' chest, which had become skinnier in the past few months, due to the food rationing they were all enduring, of necessity, having to feed so many mouths. 

"I could give you one of my shirts for a while. Meryl could tailor it. She's very good with a needle and thread!" 

"One of _your_ shirts," Knives repeated blankly. 

"Yeah! Sorry," Vash continued blithely, "It's several weeks till the next shopping splurge, but we'll get you shirts and trousers then. For now, you can borrow some of mine. I think they'll fit." Knives had, of course, not _asked_ to be given old clothes of Vash's, but... pragmatically, the button-operated shirt and trousers made more sense for the work they did, and if they could be washed more effectively with the available detergents... 

Knives sighed and capitulated. Vash could have thought of no better scheme if he had wanted Knives to _look_ the part of a 'family member', he thought exasperatedly as he trailed Vash out of the bathroom.

**  
(note 1)

It had taken Vash some time to get Knives to co-operate with regards to basic human hygenie before meals. 

Vash had pointed out that _they_ might not feel it, but the family would get sick. Knives had spat at the idea, reminding him that the Plants were his real relatives, his real destiny. 

Vash had shut him down point-blank saying, "They may be yours but they're not mine. This is my family, the one I've chosen, and if you want me in your life, you get them as well. So, they are family." He had smiled very unbelievably then and said, "Maybe we can think of the Plants as more like in-laws?" 

Which made so little sense that Knives had thrown up his hands and gone to sit at the table half an hour early, which he learned later annoyed Meryl to no end. Lurking in the hallway immediately outside the room wasn't much more acceptable to her, either. 

Which was how Knives ended up 'socializing' with large groups of orphans also waiting for their nightly repast. Wolfwood often came up to supervise, also being a man banned from the kitchen during cooking hours, and they converse more seriously, with less of the deadpan, poker-faced sarcasm Knives developed out of self-defense when faced with so many impossible to answer questions from creatures he could barely care to avoid running into as they were, some of them, too short to even see while walking.


End file.
